


Rainy days

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [41]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: The tank is still broken, and it's still raining.
Series: Mikkel's Story [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Rainy days

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Mikkel! Mikkel!” Hammering and shouting came muffled from the back of the tank. Mikkel, kneeling to fry fish while Emil rigged a tarp to protect him and the fire from the rain, muttered “Now what?” and to Emil, “Watch the fish,” as he got to his feet and ran through the rain to the tank.

“What's happened?” he called through the door, reluctant to open it while Tuuri was outside.

“The runes! The runes will wash away!” Mikkel took a few steps back, studied the runes. They _were_ washing away.

The old Mikkel, the Mikkel who strode so confidently into Kastellet, even the Mikkel who entered a bit less confidently into the hospital less than two weeks before, would have dismissed Reynir's concerns and told him he could fix his decorations when it was convenient for him to come out.

“Put on your mask and wait,” Mikkel ordered, reaching for the awning which would protect this end of the tank. The flimsy cloth awnings had been attached to the back and long sides of the tank at some point in the tank's long career with the army, allowing soldiers to sleep in relative comfort outside the tank. The team had seldom used them, being much safer inside.

“Tuuri!” Mikkel called to her, but she was leaning far into the engine and did not respond. Turning to the fire, he moved the frying pan to the side –neglected, the fish would absorb too much grease and become soggy, so he would eat those himself – and ordered Emil, “Go stand by Tuuri. If she comes up for air, tell her to stay there. I need to let Reynir out.”

“You want me to stand there in the _rain?_ ”

Mikkel ignored the complaint, searching for a stick with a nicely charred end, and Emil reluctantly obeyed. While Reynir worked on renewing the runes on the back, Mikkel pulled down the awnings on the two long sides. The runes on the east side were intact; those on the west side were half washed away. He looked uneasily over his shoulder as he worked, feeling exposed to an enemy he could not fight nor even perceive.

Mikkel was uncomfortable with allowing both Reynir and Tuuri to be outside at once, and considered ordering – well, asking at least – Tuuri to go back into the tank, but they needed her to get the tank running as fast as possible, and there was still daylight enough for them to make a few kilometers if she did. Staying in one place for a second night risked another grossling attack.

_He won't come within three meters of her, and she's out in the rain. Rain will wash away any infectious particles, and he's wearing his mask … he should be safe. **Should** be._

Uneasy, reluctant, he allowed Reynir to repair the runes on the sides of the tank while he stayed between the Icelander and Tuuri, watching them alternately. It was with relief that he saw Reynir finish the task and head to the back of the tank. “Wait, Reynir. Stand in the rain, let it wash away any, ah, anything that might have fallen on your clothing.” He joined the other in the rain; contamination could not harm him, but could in theory be transferred to the non-immune just by brushing past him. And anyway, if Emil and Reynir were both standing out in the rain on his orders, the least he could do was join them.

After several minutes, he permitted Reynir to climb gratefully back into the tank, and assured the other that he would keep an eye on the runes during the night. Though the moon was waxing near full, he knew that, with the rain, they would need the perimeter lights for the watch.

Returning to his task of preparing supper, he put aside the soggy fish and fried more batches. A very wet Emil, back under the tarp, accepted his share with genuine gratitude and even volunteered to take Sigrun and Lalli's shares to them in the safety of the tank, and Tuuri's share to where she still worked on the engine in the rain. Mikkel himself took Reynir's share to him before consuming his own share and starting a second round for everyone.

After everyone had received seconds, and Emil reported that Lalli had consumed both his portions without visible reluctance, Mikkel served out bowls of vegetable (and tallow) soup to fill them up and provide some additional vitamins. Those were received with considerably less enthusiasm.

“Mikkel,” Reynir asked a bit plaintively, “will you stay and finish supper with me?”

Mikkel could hardly deny such a simple request, and he did feel sorry for the isolated young man. He himself would have been quite happy sitting for days alone with their haul of books, but the books were mostly in Danish, a handful in English, and the Icelander could not read them. Leaving Emil on guard, and fetching his own bowl of soup, Mikkel joined Reynir in sitting on the floor of the compartment. It was, at least, out of the rain.

“Reynir, why draw the runes on the outside, in the rain? Why not in here?”

“In _here?_ No, that wouldn't stop the ghosts from coming in. It might stop them from going _out_ once they were in!” The younger man shuddered at the thought.

That made a certain amount of sense, Mikkel supposed, though it was unfortunate. Struck by another thought, he asked, “Have you considered drawing these runes on paper for us as you did before? This would permit us to enjoy the protection of the runes even while we were away from our noble steed, such as when we stood watch or visited the latrine or gathered firewood or engaged in other such necessary activities.”

“Hmm … I don't think they'd work very well in your pocket …”

“I see … I believe that we could devise a protection for the non-mages among us, however, if you were to give us _two_ runes, that one which catches fire around ghosts and this one which you say drives them away. If the one were to catch fire, then whoever bore it would know to pull out the other and display it to the attacking apparitions.” _And put out the fire too, but a little burn and some clothing damage is a lot better than than going through that attack we suffered …_

“That could work … yes, I suppose that would work. I'll do that! That's a great idea! I can help!”

With his own pair of runes in his pockets, and pairs for the other four tucked into his jacket, Mikkel set out to distribute runes and instructions. Emil gave his pair a doubtful look but, apparently remembering the rune that had caught fire in his own pocket, gave no argument and separated them in his pockets. Tuuri received them with gratitude, praising Reynir's ingenuity, and immediately dived back into her task. Sigrun, lying on her bunk with her eyes closed, simply accepted them and pocketed them as instructed, saying nothing. Mikkel stood for a moment, unconsciously biting his lip in concern, before turning to Lalli, who was still dutifully if slowly spooning his soup into his mouth. The scout accepted the runes, examined them narrowly, nodded, and stuffed them in separate pockets. Presumably he understood the concept, Mikkel thought, and in any case he would _see_ the ghosts and didn't need the fire rune to alert him.

Protected by the runes, shielded by the tarp, Mikkel scrubbed every plate, bowl, pot, and pan, until the sun began to set. “Tuuri, you must stop now.”

“No, no, I've almost got it!”

“It's raining and it's getting dark. You must go into the tank.”

“No –”

“Even if you are able to start it, we can't go anywhere now. I will not allow you to exhaust yourself like this. You _will_ go inside and get a good night's sleep. I have confidence that you'll be able to fix it in the morning. Now go!”

She went.

Sigrun had the first watch and Mikkel the second, but when he followed Tuuri into the tank and found the captain asleep, he quietly turned around and climbed back out, standing both watches himself. It rained all night, but there were no attacks.

* * *

Mikkel woke, as he had so often recently, with his heart pounding as if he'd been running for his life. It was the old nightmare, something vast and evil that pursued him through a trackless wasteland. With a suppressed sigh, he turned over and peered forward to see the dim light of dawn through the windshield. Morning, then, and there were chores to be done. Rolling out of his bunk carefully, so as not to kick or step on Lalli, he found Emil's bunk and Tuuri's both empty, and Sigrun still sleeping.

He watched her for a moment, hesitating. This prolonged sleep was a bad sign – or was it? Was it a reaction to the infection? Or to the antibiotics? If it was the antibiotics, there was really nothing he could do, as he had no others and the infection could not be allowed to progress unchecked. At last he reached out and gently touched her forehead. Though his touch was feather-light, she muttered something in her sleep and rolled away.

Her forehead was warm, feverish, but not dangerously hot. He knew that within limits, fever helped fight infections, so this seemed, if not a good sign, at least not a very bad sign. With a resigned shrug at the inadequacy of his abilities, he quietly made up the empty bunks and left the tank.

It was still raining. Tuuri was already working on the engine, the kitten sitting on top of the engine, protected from the rain by the open hood, and Emil was patrolling, finishing the third watch. Seeing Mikkel, the younger man gave something like a salute and announced his intention to escort Reynir to the latrine. “Good man,” Mikkel murmured before beginning his own patrol. When Emil and Reynir returned and the Icelander was safely back in the tank, Mikkel left Emil to guard while he himself began preparing breakfast: fried fish and more vegetable and tallow soup. The fire was already burning nicely with a stack of firewood beside it; Emil had been busy while the others slept.

Sigrun appeared before breakfast was ready and sat cross-legged beside the fire, warming her hands.

“You didn't wake me for my watch.”

“You needed the sleep.”

“We _all_ need sleep. I don't like being treated like a baby!”

“I'm not treating you like a baby, I'm treating you like a patient. And like any patient, you need to rest and build up your strength. In your long career as a troll-hunter, you have been injured before; I saw the scars on your arm. I find it impossible to believe that a sick and injured troll-hunter is permitted to stand watches night after night.”

“Well, no, of course not. We don't stay out night after … oh. You're talking about soldiers again.”

“Indeed I am. I would not permit an injured soldier under my command to stand watch when there were others –”

“Stop right there! I'm _not_ under your command! _You're_ under _my_ command! And I haven't taken you off the mutinist list!”

“No, no, of course you're not under my command. Hence my use of the word 'would' rather than the word 'will'. I am your second-in-command and have no desire to be otherwise. However, I did accept the role of the team medic, and in that capacity, and under these circumstances, I believe it is incumbent upon me to protect an injured team member from further injury to the degree that this is within my power.”

“Uh … did all that mean that you'll still stand my watches?”

“Yes, that's what that meant. It is your duty to rest and recover so that we may have a healthy troll-hunter as our captain in these dangerous environs, and it is my duty to do what I can to assist you.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and she stared unhappily into the fire. “I did need the sleep.” After a long silence, “Thank you.”

He might have answered, but at that point Emil came around the end of the tank and sniffed hopefully in the direction of his breakfast, and the moment was lost.

Finding Tuuri slumped against the tank, holding her head and near tears, Mikkel judged that she needed a break from struggling with the repairs. “Come along now,” he urged gently, “have some breakfast, give your mind a rest. Many people find that a task is harder if they focus exclusively on it, and easier if they think about something else for a bit, allowing ideas to work their way forward which might have been pushed aside in concentrating on the task.”

“Yes, but – it shouldn't be so _hard!_ ”

“If it can be fixed, I'm sure you will fix it. You've kept it running this long, which I don't believe any other mechanic could have done. You have a mage's touch with machinery, after all.”

“Oh, Onni says that, but I think he's just trying to make me feel better because he's a mage and Lalli's a mage and I'm just … me.”

“You are a very fine person being just you, and immensely important to this team. Now come, sit under the tarp, enjoy the fire, have your breakfast, think about other things, and go back to the engine with a fresh mind.”

She allowed herself to be led to the fire and accepted her fried fish. Mikkel studied her face as she ate then, recognizing what he was doing, turned his gaze away and concentrated on his cooking. Before long, however, he was watching her again: the firelight on her lashes as she looked down at her plate, her brave smile when Emil greeted her, the curve of her cheek as she looked over at the tank …

Mikkel stored each image away in his memory against the long dark years to come.


End file.
